


The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

by Amethyzt



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Murven in suburbia, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyzt/pseuds/Amethyzt
Summary: “Do you excuse a lot of his behavior because of his age?”Raven jumps in before Murphy can. “What do you mean ‘his behavior’?”Kayleigh clasps her hands together on the desk. “Eli is a very smart kid—there’s no doubt about that. He’s very far ahead the others in the class when it comes to the STEM courses, and he’s a fairly good reader for his age as well. But, as you could probably guess from my notes in his agenda, he has issues behaving in class and following instruction.”Or, the one where Murphy and Raven have a gifted six-year-old son who becomes the bane of his teacher's existence for reasons Raven and Murphy can't, and most importantly don't, care to understand.
Relationships: John Murphy/Raven Reyes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, did you ask for a Murven parent-teacher conference oneshot? No?? Oh... lol well here you go anyways :)

Raven can name an infinite number of things she’d rather do on a Friday after work.

Among them are having her monthly date night with her husband, going out for drinks with Clarke, Harper and Octavia, and building a pillow fort with her hyperactive son. Hell, going grocery shopping or cleaning the oven are on the list as well.

Hurrying over to her son’s school for a parent-teacher conference? Yeah, that’s the last thing she’d want to do.

She hates to be one of those parents—she swore to herself she’d never let herself become _that_ mom—but Raven is convinced that Eli is not the problem as his first grade teacher, Mrs. Cutter, so subtly implied in her email. Is her son too much of a smartass for his mere six years of life? Yes. With her and Murphy as parents, honestly, it’s a miracle the kid is as polite as he is.

And he is polite. They made sure to teach him to use “please,” “thank you,” and “sir” and “ma’am.” Eli just wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and if he saw an opportunity to crack a joke while doing so, he was going to take it—and with his dad encouraging it all, there is very little chance Eli will stop his behavior.

Not that Raven wants him to. It’s harmless, and it makes Eli who he is. (Whether or not that will be a problem when he’s a teenager is still yet to be seen, but at his current age, all of their friends agree Eli is very cute.)

To be frank, Raven thinks Mrs. Cutter is a bitch. They’ve had enough back-and-forth discussions on Eli’s agenda—hers all written in her grating red ink and accented with frowny faces— in the past couple of weeks to further solidify Raven’s assumption. Every single day, Eli comes home with a note about his disruptive behavior or “attitude issues,” as Mrs. Cutter not-so-kindly triple underlines in red.

The whole ordeal has been baffling her and Murphy since school started. They generally never heard a bad word from Eli’s kindergarten teacher last year (other than the odd day or two when her son had a tantrum in class, but that’s normal) and the whole reason they had decided to send him to this fancy private school was because the guidance counselor at the public school told them Eli would excel more at Polaris, and that the school was supposed to cater to his accelerated talents. She had thrown around the word “gifted” with flourish.

Any other parent would have been won over instantly. But she and Murphy were skeptics at heart. There was no doubt their son was smart. Back then, at age 5, Eli was already able to add and subtract double digit equations in his head. Now at six years old, she was helping him learn his multiplication tables.

But sending him to a private school full of these other “gifted” children? Raven wondered what that would do to her son. Would it transform him into a different person entirely? Would it give him a sense of entitlement as he grew up?

Then again, she and Murphy were from humble beginnings. They struggled through life far more than they should have. Raven knew she didn’t want that for her son either.

So, they enrolled Eli in Polaris and here they were, three months later with a scheduled parent-teacher conference where Mrs. Cutter had sent, not one, but two email reminders as well as a written note in Eli’s agenda. Triple underlined in red, with an exclamation point to boot.

She had begged Murphy last night to attend the conference on his own and make up an excuse for her.

“I think the fuck not,” he said as he slipped into bed with her. “You don’t want me to go alone. Do you know Eli told me today that she kept him from recess today because he ‘talked back?’” He makes air quotes around the last two words. “Load of bullshit.”

“He probably did talk back,” Raven said, cuddling up to his side and burying her face in his T-shirt. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, he was out like a light,” he responded quickly before launching into their son’s narrative. “Eli said it was because he raised his hand during math class and told her the way she was teaching them was too complicated. He offered to teach a simpler way.”

“Of course he did,” Raven chuckled, and then let out a long sigh. “It’s the Common Core standards. To get the answer to 28 minus 11, you have to go through three different steps. Eli doesn’t have the patience for that.”

“He didn’t get it from me,” Murphy agreed. “And he sure as hell didn’t get it from you.”

She couldn’t argue with that. So instead, she had groaned loudly into his chest as he reached over to turn his bedside lamp off. “If I kill her, will you help me get rid of the body?” she murmurs into his chest.

“Babe, I got you.”

And here she is today, her work boots thudding against the polished linoleum floor while she weaves her way from the front office to Eli’s classroom. She’s never actually been in his classroom. They skipped the school’s open house event the first week of school—but it’s not like it could be helped. The open house just happened to fall on the same night as Jasper and Maya’s rehearsal dinner, and seeing as Eli was their ringbearer, it’s not like they could have skipped it, nor would they have wanted to. Besides, they had already attended orientation the week before school started.

All to say that she’s grateful for the paper map the front desk secretary handed her when she checked in. A few turns through the hallways later, she finally sees Murphy leaning against the wall of a classroom while Eli plays with a small airplane. Murphy’s still in his navy police uniform, sans gun of course, and Eli is wearing his white collared uniform shirt with the tiny Polaris shield of arms in the breast pocket (because why wouldn’t they have a shield of arms). Only change from this morning is that his shirt is now untucked from his navy pants, and there’s a nice light red smear of whatever he spilled on himself during dinner.

Eli stops playing when he sees her, and runs toward her. Raven crouches in preparation, arms outstretched.

“Mom, look!” He says, showing off the yellow and red airplane toy. “Dad took me to McDonalds, and look what I got in my Happy Meal.”

Raven glances us amusedly at Murphy before redirecting her attention back to her son. “Very cool bud. Did you have some fries with your ketchup?” she says, playfully dabbing at the red stain on his shirt.

Her six year old son _rolls his eyes_ at her, and she laughs, standing back up and leaning over to Murphy to kiss him briefly. “Did he eat all his food?”

“Every last bite,” Murphy says. “The boy has a healthy appetite.”

“Just not when I’m the one cooking.”

“To be fair, not even my appetite can handle your cooking,” he smirks. “Mrs. Cutter is inside. She said to walk in whenever you got here.”

Raven frowns and checks the time on her phone. She’s only a couple minutes late, so really, she’s on time. “Have you been waiting long.”

“Nah,” Murphy reassures her. “She literally popped her head out a minute before you got here.”

Raven nods, and takes Eli by the hand. She opens the door to the classroom, and is surprised to see the teacher she finds behind the desk.

When she thought of Mrs. Cutter, she had pictured an older woman with graying hair and stern-looking glasses highlighting sharp cheekbones and a pursed mouth. That’s the image the red ink messages gave her, and yeah maybe it was a bit cliché, but Raven didn’t have much of an imagination. What she actually finds is a polar opposite of that.

Mrs. Cutter is fairly young—Raven would estimate she’s probably around her own age. She’s blonde with a heart-shaped face and bright blue eyes. And to top it all off, Mrs. Cutter is wearing a knee-length sleeveless swing dress with a yellow pencil patterned fabric. Like, literal cartoon pencils.

“Are you Mrs. Cutter?” Raven asks, hoping the tentative note in her voice isn’t offensive.

“Yes,” she pipes up, hopping up from behind the desk. “You can call me Kayleigh.” She crosses the room and extends a hand out to her. “You must be Mrs. Murphy,” she says and her eyes flit to Murphy, “and you must be Mr. Murphy.”

“Raven is fine,” she responds after shaking her hand. She hears Murphy introducing himself by his first name afterward.

They cross the room to sit across from the desk from Mrs. Cutter—err, Kayleigh, Raven mentally reminds herself— where she has pulled up two thankfully adult-size chairs. Raven’s eyes didn’t miss the tiny chairs spread out across the rooms for the first-graders.

“Eli, why don’t you go sit at your seat and work on some homework,” Murphy suggests.

Eli looks unsure for a second, before biting his lip, and looking up at his dad. “I already finished it. Can I have your phone instead?”

Murphy pulls it out and hands it to him. “Low volume, please.” Eli takes it and strides off to his desk.

Which, Raven notices with a frown, is the lone desk facing the wall away from the main tables.

“You didn’t ask to see it,” Kayleigh says, and her and Murphy refocus on the teacher. “His homework, I mean.”

Murphy shrugs. “I’m sure he did it. Raven and I don’t really have to micromanage him on that. He’s pretty self-sufficient for a six-year-old.”

“That’s good,” Kayleigh smiles kindly. “And Polaris does encourage students to be independent and develop their capabilities, but…” she takes a deep breath, and looks apologetically at Raven. The look sends alarm bells ringing through her body. Whatever this teacher is going to say, Raven isn’t going to like it.

“How’s Eli’s structure at home?” Kayleigh asks.

Raven frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he used to a routine? Does he have a strict bedtime? Things like that.”

Raven exchanges a look with Murphy. “Well, his dad picks him up from school every day and he’s there with him until I get home. We have dinner together, and depending on the day, Eli is usually in bed by 9ish.”

“What do you mean depending on the day?”

She sees Murphy’s jaw tick, a telltale sign that he’s irritated at Kayleigh’s questions already, and they haven’t even been here for five minutes.

“She means he’s a first grader and sometimes kids fight you tooth and nail to stay up a little later,” Murphy responds and Raven inwardly grimaces. It’s not really how she would have phrased it to this teacher.

“Do you excuse a lot of his behavior because of his age?”

Raven jumps in before Murphy can. “What do you mean ‘his behavior’?”

Kayleigh clasps her hands together on the desk. “Eli is a very smart kid—there’s no doubt about that. He’s very far ahead the others in the class when it comes to the STEM courses, and he’s a fairly good reader for his age as well. But, as you could probably guess from my notes in his agenda, he has issues behaving in class and following instruction.”

“That homework he said he completed?” Kayleigh continues. “He wasn’t lying. He did finish all of his homework. During quiet reflection time.”

It’s at this point that Raven realizes, without even knowing what the hell quiet reflection time is, that this conference is not going to go well.

“And just so we understand the gravity of that,” Murphy says, and _oof_ —Raven can feel the sarcasm flowing in waves, “could you explain to us what he’s supposed to do during… quiet reflection time?”

“Sit and do nothing,” Eli says from across the room. Of course he’s listening in, despite appearing to be engrossed in playing Homescapes on Murphy’s phone.

“ _Eli_ ,” Kayleigh admonishes, and Raven is momentarily shocked at the tone that escapes this seemingly unassuming-looking woman. “Do you want to start on red again tomorrow?”

“No m’am,” he says, his chin drooping on his chest. “I was just talking to my dad.”

Raven looks back to her son, unused to him sounding so downtrodden so quickly, and then her eyes land on a board at the front of the classroom. It has all the children’s names written on construction paper pockets stapled to the board, all holding a colored strip of paper. Most of the pockets have green papers, though a couple are on yellow. Only Eli’s is red.

“You’ll start on red again tomorrow,” Kayleigh says, and Eli slumps in his seat.

That doesn’t sit well with Raven. For a school that claims wanting students to be independent and advance their learning, it sure feels like her son is being singled out for his definition of what that is. And by the look of Murphy, it’s not sitting well with him either.

“That was unnecessary,” Murphy says.

“Maybe, if it wasn’t usual behavior,” Kayleigh responds. “But if you let it slide once, kids will come to expect that.” She sighs, and plasters on that passive aggressive smile. “Now, to answer your question. Quiet reflection time is a 30-minute period we hold at the end of the school day where the children are encouraged to sit at their desks and contemplate what they’ve learned during the day. They can use that time to draw, write or even meditate if that’s a customary practice in their household.”

Raven has to bite back the sarcastic comment that threatens to escape her. What first grader can quietly sit long enough to fucking meditate?

“And you believe doing his homework during this free period isn’t a good use of his time?”

Kayleigh’s close-lipped grin tightens at the corners of her lip. “It’s not a free period, Mr. Murphy.”

“Sounds like it to me,” he mutters.

Raven jumps in to avoid the conversation from unravelling. “You know, we’ve never had complaints about Eli before. His kindergarten teacher only had good things to say about him.”

“With all due respect, that was public school,” Kayleigh says. “This is Polaris. Students are expected to reach a much higher standard.”

Raven hums in response, and exchanges a loaded look with Murphy. After a second, Raven leans forward, clasping her hands on Kayleigh’s desk to mirror her. “So, what is it exactly that you were hoping to accomplish by meeting us?” She hopes her stance communicates that this parent-teacher conference is in fact, not going very well.

“For one I wanted your support,” Kayleigh says. “I’ve found that when parents are actively engaged in their child’s education and upbringing, both in and out of the classroom, students are better poised for success.”

Raven bristles at the subtle dig that she and Murphy weren’t engaged in raising and teaching Eli. Neither of them had a good childhood to use as a benchmark, but she’s pretty damn sure they’re doing a fucking great job at being his parents. This teacher has no idea. She’s not there when Raven sits down to help Eli with any homework he may not understand, or when she challenges him with algebraic equations in the car while they go somewhere. This teacher is not there to see Murphy read Eli to sleep every night or there to see him cook them dinner virtually every day despite the fact being a police officer sometimes leaves him drained both physically and emotionally.

“I also just wanted to meet you both,” Kayleigh continues, unaware of the firestorm she has revved up in Raven. “Seeing as you both skipped our open house. You know, you guys were the only parents of my students to miss it.”

And there’s just something in the way Kayleigh says that. It makes the lightbulb go off in Raven’s head. Because this parent-teacher conference, the whole Eli misbehaving in class and talking back… Raven can’t help feeling like there’s something deeper there.

“We’re very sorry,” Raven says, but judging by the slight shake of Kayleigh’s head, her sarcasm was not very well hidden. “But, our friends were having a rehearsal dinner that night. Eli was in the wedding party, and nothing would have prevented us from missing it. Besides, the three-hour orientation we attended the day before was plenty.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase here,” Murphy interrupts. “You have a problem with Eli’s behavior in class. So aside from him doing his homework during quiet time, what is going on?”

“It’s a matter of authority,” Kayleigh answers, and lowering her voice to a whisper she adds, “Frankly, Eli has an issue with authority. He doesn’t like to follow instruction when he thinks he knows better, and nothing and no one in this school will make him budge once he’s made up his mind that he isn’t going to do something.”

Raven frowns. “Has he been refusing to do his classwork?”

Thankfully, Kayleigh shakes her head. “No, he always gets that done, but the issue is how he goes about it. He doesn’t listen to what I have to say as soon as he figures out how to work out a problem. He then disrupts class by getting his fellow classmates to do it his way. In short, he cuts a lot of corners and it’s a detriment to the whole class.”

“I thought this school’s whole thing was about letting kids pave their own academic way,” Murphy says.

“Yes, but it’s not a free-for-all,” Kayleigh says. “It’s true that Polaris does things different—”

“So you keep saying.”

“—and I’m just not sure Eli is adjusting to all those things as well as we all hoped.”

Therein lies the issue. When Raven and Murphy decided to enroll Eli in Polaris, there was so much trepidation. They spent hours talking about it with their friends. Polaris was not just a little different. It was going to be a major adjustment in all aspect of Eli’s life. From the simple—uniforms and a longer commute—to the ones that really made them hesitant: The increased testing model and class ranking system. Not to mention, most of the families that sent their kids to Polaris were extremely wealthy.

At the end of the day, she might work for NASA but she wasn’t an astronaut or anything. She was an aircraft mechanic. Murphy was in law enforcement. They were comfortable financially, but the crazy tuition cost matched semester enrollment in community college.

More often than not, Raven wonders if they did the right thing.

Kayleigh sends them on their way with a couple parenting books on how to handle a “strong-willed child,” (her words, not theirs) and Raven has to swallow the big “Fuck You” that is on the tip of her tongue.

There’s not a chance in hell they’re taking those books home with them. Murphy makes it a point to leave them outside her classroom, making sure their son sees. Once outside the school, he picks up Eli and hoists him up so that he’s seated on his shoulders on the way to her car.

“I’ll meet you guys at home?” He says as he puts Eli back on the ground.

Raven nods and helps Eli into his booster seat. Once he’s secured, she gives Murphy a quick peck on the lips before getting in the driver’s seat.

Eli is unusually quiet on the way home. Raven keeps glancing at him through her rearview mirror, and after 10 minutes of nothing but listening to the radio, she can’t take it anymore.

“You okay there, bud?” She asks, meeting her son’s gaze at a red stoplight.

Eli shrugs and mumbles something that sounds like “I don’t know,” but it’s too garbled for her to fully hear.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just…” He breathes out sharply. “I hate that school mom. And I don’t like Mrs. Cutter very much.”

“You want to know something?”

Eli nods.

“I don’t like that school either—or Mrs. Cutter.” She can’t help the laugh that escapes her then, but it’s worth it to see the smile that spreads on her son’s face. “I think your daddy feels the same way.”

The smile remains on his face for a beat before it dissipates. “Mom, I don’t want to go back.”

The light turns green up ahead. “Then it’s settled. You’re not going back.”

The shock and happiness that spreads through her son’s face is worth everything. “Really?”

“If that’s what you want. Unless—”

“No, that’s what I want,” he cuts her off, nodding profusely.

It’s no surprise that Murphy beats them home to their two-story house in the suburbs. No one dares speed around a police cruiser, and Murphy takes advantage of that. As soon as she releases Eli from his booster seat, he runs into his father’s arms gabbing a mile a minute about how his mom told him he’s going back to his “regular” school with Jordan and Griffin, Clarke and Bellamy’s son.

If someone had told her 10 years ago that this would be her life—that she would have a hot husband in uniform to kiss her home from work in their white picket fence life in suburbia, and that they would have the most adorable, albeit hot-headed and inquisitive little boy—she would have laughed in their face.

Eli dashes inside the open garage and jiggles the door handle impatiently. Murphy raises an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t give me that look,” she says. “I’m your wife. I can read your mind. We knew he wasn’t going back to that school the second the words ‘quiet reflection time’ left her mouth.”

“I’ll remember that reading my mind bit when its time to do the dishes.”

“Oh shut up,” she says, with a playful roll of her eyes. “Just go open the door before Eli kicks it down.”

**Author's Note:**

> Had fun just writing a silly story for once. Hope it helped you pass the time in this weird, stressful time of COVID-19!


End file.
